Wake every chord, strike every string, <br />Diffuse harmonious raptures round; <br />Ye foreign songsters warbling breathe <br />The sweetest strains of vocal sound. <br /> <br /> <br />Then, Scotia, pour thy native lays, <br />All tender, simple, wildly sweet, <br />Thy martial, mournful, lively airs, <br />Where Beauty, Power, and Pathos meet. <br /> <br /> <br />More rich, more sweet, more thrilling far <br />Than German or Italian song; <br />Wake, Scotia, wake thy mountain lyre, <br />And roll the inspiring tide along. <br /> <br /> <br />Oh! roll the glorious tide of song, <br />Soft gushing o'er the melting heart, <br />Till patriot Ardour, Mirth, and Love, <br />Their warmest, brightest powers impart. <br /> <br /> <br />When heart-warm tears eclipse thine eyes, <br />When struggling raptures thrill thy breast, <br />Be Scotia's peerless powers of song, <br />In all their native charms, confessed.<br /><br />Janet Hamilton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-power-and-beauty-of-scottish-song/
